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220 called on to minister to their pleasure who would never dream of contributing to hers. Still, her lute was brought; and, with the first tone awakened from the strings, she grew timid, as if she only then noted how much the attention of the circle was fixed upon her. At first her voice was tremulous and low, but it soon asserted its delicious power. Rich, deep, and melancholy, it was one of those which appeal even more to the heart than to the ear—one of those which, by some subtle spell—music's best secret—seem to call up every sad and sweet thought which memory has garnered for years.

Everyone was surprised, or rather touched, into warm expressions of delight. The Queen's quick eye glanced from Louis, who stood in fixed attention, to the singer, who, far more confused by the praise than the exertion, rose from the kneeling position, whose very humility had in it such grace, with that rich flushed colour, so lovely in a face usually pale, and with downcast eyes, whose darkness was only indicated by the black and curled eyelash.

"How very lovely!" said the Queen, in a whisper, but loud enough for her son to hear, who now approached, and took himself the lute from Francesca. Christina, first indulging in a quick